Now I start over, and rebuild, and confront fear and learn to drive alone and figure out how to secure Eli in the loft so I can still snuggle with him at night. Now I have to hang the art I’ve collected from friends over the years, find a place for my autographed Eileen Myles books, and learn to do yoga. Now I need to meet all the versions of myself hiding in this city and make friends with every single one of them.
I’m starting to realize I’m not a connoisseur of anything so much as just a total fucking weirdo.
“He gave me “the benefit of the doubt” that traffic was indeed too rough to allow me, a braless 25-year-old nervously driving a station wagon, to shift over.”
Back in August I received an invitation to the Papal arrival ceremony …a story went up, was picked up by Breitbart, and Fox News took it from there. Before long a few gay and trans folk among 15,000 guests on the White House lawn was enough to get media talking around the planet.
“In the two weeks I’ve been on the road I’ve learned to be silent and reverent in the face of nature, to see myself in mountains and peel away the layers that tug me toward them, to feel at home in endless waves of grain, to become someone new in every new place.”
I went to Tennessee and found freedom and a sense of adventure. And the best keychain ever.
Tinder is not a very good place for making friends.
“I remember everything: what normal felt like all through college in my relationship with her — an attractive and charismatic woman who was also a compulsive liar and an abusive lover. Of course it didn’t start out that way. Insane realities rarely do.”
We’re almost there! The interminable countdown to actually having a real, live baby is almost over!
I went to New Jersey and back, and I had a million billion emotions.
This week I will pack up my (brand new!) car, and I will probably cry, a lot, and I will put some stuff in the mail, and I will take a million photos, and I will drive across the country.
Sometimes the only way to remember the good times is to recreate them yourself.
I don’t know how to make friends, but I’m going to try. I’m going to do it with apps and technology, so that the process is replicable for the rest of you.
In the very first edition of a biweekly column all about tacos, Yvonne writes about her personal connection to the delicious, Mexican super food and her search for damn good tacos far away from home.
“It isn’t until the summer, when the frost melts and the icee man comes calling and the pool is open and the yard (however ridden with stubborn weeds) starts to incubate natural life, that you realize the source of your woes isn’t dependent on the weather. It’s you. “
“I’m not sure if there was anything specific that made me feel like I needed other women. Maybe it was moving to LA with no prospects. Maybe it was breaking up with one terrible person for another terrible person. Maybe those two forms of loneliness converged into motivation. Maybe I was just tired. I can tell you this though: Befriending other queer women will save your life.”
“The threat to move to Michigan was always made in a specific context: some element of my life fell apart and I didn’t know how to fix it or myself.”
How do we both honor our child’s memory and prepare to open our hearts again to a new child?
This year, from April 20th until June 12th, I made some variation of “no” my Facebook status every day. It was just something I found vaguely funny but by the end it was something that I could count on for strength.
“Now more than ever, I think it’s important to say alabanza to those who were slain, to lift their names up in prayer and to remind those of us still living that Black lives do matter — they’ve always mattered and will always matter.”